Never Live It Down
by Alone Dreaming
Summary: Kirk's concussed, Spock's drugged- something dangerous must be about. Right? Non-slash. Darkish-humor. Rating for a few choice words.


**_Never Live It Down_**

**By Alone Dreaming**

**Rating:** PG-13 or T (for strong language)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Star Trek_. If I did, this would not be posted under fan fiction.

**Warnings:** Dark humor, injuries, sickness and confusing present tense narration.

**Dedication:** To my roommate-- for you, a bit of hurt Spock, too.

**Author's Note:** Really, just a bit of self-indulgent weirdness bred from too much reading for my summer courses and a sudden itch to write. Any issues with tense changes (I did try to catch them but I wrote this on little sleep and edited it on none) or grammar/spelling are my own.

Please be aware that my Star Trek knowledge is severely limited-- I've only ever seen this movie and half an episode of the Original Series. Therefore, any technology bloopers or out of place references, while my fault, should be taken with a grain of salt. I hope you enjoy it all the same.

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He wakes up with his head tilted backwards and to the side in a neck wrenchingly uncomfortable way, his mouth dry from hanging open and something, probably saliva, congealed down the side of his face; this has, in fact, attached his skin to the surface he is resting on which he discovers, with no lack of embarrassment, to be the shoulder of his first mate. His first instinct is to sit up and he follows it only to stop seconds later with a groan. His neck aches from the position he's been in but his head hurts like a bitch, causing his stomach to enact a revolt. He manages to move just enough so he can avoid vomiting on Spock's shoulder though the watery stuff he produces splashes on him and he has little doubt that it's hit the Vulcan as well. Lovely, he thinks, just lovely.

He wants to pass out for a little bit and wake up whenever this hellish hangover's left him but he needs to know how the hell he acquired said sickness. Memories, mostly foggy, involving leaving the _Enterprise_ to explore a supposedly uninhabited place come up first. Tracing this, he recalls ending up in a wood very similar to those on Earth though the trees lacked appropriate colors-- most of them being shades of pale peach and red-- and investigating the flora with little interest. Spock had been taking samples for the ship. But that is where things end, right with him sniffing at a strange little flower that reminded him of a daisy. He wonders if it was the flower's fault.

"Are you awake, Captain?" Spock inquires. They are, Kirk notices, back to back and, this is a bit more disturbing, tied together with a rough, rope-like substance. Spock's head turns towards his and though his vision is hazy, he can imagine the Vulcan giving him the inquisitive look he often gives "lesser" beings.

"Unfortunately," he mumbles through his cracking lips. He tastes blood as he runs his tongue over them. "Get the plate of the semi that hit me?"

He can almost hear Spock's eyebrows raising, "Captain, there are no semi trucks on this planet. I believe they are an exclusive item of Earth. Do you recall what happened to us and where we are?"

"I know, no and kinda," he answers with a sigh. The light in here, wherever here is, feels just a little too dim to actually focus. He could easily doze off again. "I remember coming here but I don't remember why and the semi thing is an expression. Did we meet some friendly natives who happened to exist even though they supposedly didn't and have a wild party?"

Spock is silent and Kirk wonders if he feels just as bad. He nudges the Vulcan with his shoulder and when that elicits no response he tries tapping him with his head. The pain that follows can only be described as phenomenal. He forgets everything all over again including who he is. The previously dim illumination burns at his eyes like fire. Maybe he cries out, maybe he doesn't; the next time he can care about something other than his poor skull, he's sounding like a kicked dog and Spock still isn't speaking.

"Worst hangover ever," he whimpers, keeping his eyes closed. No matter how dark the cave was, it's too bright now. Spock doesn't deny it; he's quiet and still in a way that makes Kirk nervous. "Spock? You with me?"

A moment passes and then two before Spock whispers, "I think the answer to that is obvious."

"You know what I mean," Kirk says in an equally low voice. Sound hurts now too. "Give me a status report. Are you hurt?"

Kirk can feel the Vulcan shaking his head and leans forward to protect his own. "They hit me with a projectile. I feel-- strange…"

"How strange?" Kirk demands but softly. Spock's words, he notes, seem muddled and his sentences don't hold their usual 'holier-than-thou' tone. He has to elbow his friend again. "Spock? What do you mean by strange? Strange like 'I drank way too fucking much' or strange like 'I'm bleeding out my eyeballs'?" He really hopes it's the second because that would explain why he feels like shit. Then, he processes the first part of the sentence. "Who's 'they'?"

"Tired," the Vulcan slurs. "Very tired." The ropes around Kirk's middle tighten. He mutters under his breath and shifts forward, feeling a dead weight pulling him towards the floor. Wherever they are, whatever has happened, he knows now that they are in deep. He peels his eyes open again, groaning at the light, and looks for his communicator. However, the only thing near him is a rock and its five feet away. His phaser has taken a trip with the communicator as he cannot find it either.

They're fucked. But, he'd really prefer not to be fucked without knowledge of how he got there in the first place. "Spock-- you need to stay awake. C'mon. Tell me what happened. I don't remember. Spock? You there?"

There's a grunt but not much else. Even after five minutes of prodding and cajoling, Spock appears to be oblivious. Kirk can still feel him breathing, the slight rise and fall of his body very apparent against Kirk's back. As long as that continues, he decides, then Spock can sleep. Meanwhile, he will find a way to get them out of this situation. He might be able to reach the rock with his foot, if he stretches out and if he's lucky-- which he usually is-- that rock might be able to cut the ropes. Then he'll drag Spock's ass back and get the hell off of this place. Who cares about the weird trees and daisies? If something darted both him and Spock, they're clearly not worth it.

He leans forward, his collar pulling at the hairs on his neck and sticking to his skin. His head gives a nasty throb but he focuses on his goal. His tongue tucks between his lips and his eyes narrow, trying to keep the world from tilting like it has been since he woke up. The urge to vomit comes back strong after two minutes and after three, he's sweating heavily. By the fourth minute, he takes a break to still his shaking. By the fifth moment, he's sick again and feels miserable. The rock is still there, mocking him, and Spock, despite the jostling, is still unconscious.

He closes his eyes again to rest and falls asleep without realizing it. His next moment of wakefulness involves being elbowed twice in the kidneys and he's surprised to discover that he has a hard time coming to. His head is very sore, making the pain in his back feel like nothing. But the voice insisting on his wakefulness forces him to pay attention.

"Wha?" he queries and the elbow ceases.

Spock's voice still seems weary. "You must not sleep, Jim."

"And you can?" he says, well, whines. "Think they just hit us with a sleepy dart, Spock. Notf a big deal." He still doesn't know who they are but figures it'll be easier for the Vulcan to understand. He just wish he did

"They shot me with a dart but they hit you on the head. You are no longer bleeding but I am certain you have suffered a concussion."

Well, that explained a few things. "Someone hit me?"

"Yes," Spock says. "Do you remember?"

Irritation born of pain, sickness and self-frustration eats at him. "Would I ask if I friggin' remembered?"

"Logic has not always been your strong point, Captain," Spock snips in return, and Kirk senses annoyance almost equal to his own.

He pouts, feeling sick and not wanting to ask anything else. Spock is quiet, maybe asleep again, and Kirk tries to convince himself he doesn't care. He tries to recall the mysterious 'they' but finds it impossible. Then, he busies himself in trying to reach the rock only to fail. For a second, he dozes off only to jerk awake when Spock shifts. Bit by bit, he calms down, feeling fatigue and the need to escape to the safety of his ship. Clearly, Spock feels that way, too. Nerves combined with the dart would explain the Vulcan's outburst.

"Who were they?" he asks, begrudgingly.

"Who were who?" Spock returns.

"The guys who got us? And why did they leave us here? Are they coming back?" Kirk flings at him without a breath.

Spock doesn't answer and Kirk thinks he's fallen asleep again until he feels the Vulcan sit straight up. Someone approaches, not menacingly or very stealthily; in fact, from what Kirk can hear, it's numerous someones and they are chattering loudly. The cacophony of sound echoes through his head and he wishes he could cover his ears with his hands. His head's trying to explode again. He closes his eyes against it and the increasing clamor causes his ears to ring. The gibbering surrounds him creeps into his being and causes him to shudder with pain.

Spock is talking; he knows this and knows it's not to him. Curiosity pricks him and he cracks an eye so he can see what they are or who they are. His vision is blurry but he can see that they are short, barely taller than he is sitting down, and that they have something on their heads. They appear humanoid to him but their color seems somewhat off. He blinks once then twice and things begin to come into focus. When he sees what's before him, he blinks some more and even chances a shake of the head. However, this does not change the appearance of his captors.

He and Spock have been taken down by a group of boy scouts.

They aren't exactly boy scouts of Earth but the resemblance is uncanny. They definitely are children with their chubby cheeks and curious expressions. All of them wear identical uniforms of black shorts, white collared shirts, black vests and black ball caps. Shiny circular bulbs decorate the vests, each of them having slightly different collections but in the center of each of their hats, they have the same patterns and symbols. However, the similarities end there. Their hair was white and their skin had an unnatural bluish tinge emphasized by their purple lips. They look dead.

Zombie boy scouts; they'll never live it down.

Someone throws a shadow over his vision and he turns his head ever so slightly to see a much taller and adult looking version of the scouts looking at him. He carries a walking stick and has more baubles on his vest than any of the others. A frown decorates his face as he studies Kirk and the puddle of vomit next to him. On his belt, he has what looks like dart gun as well as both Kirk and Spock's phasers. If Kirk had to bet, he would lay money on their communicators being hidden somewhere within the belt of said boy scout leader.

"Your friend says you are the leader of your expedition," Scout Leader says.

He thinks about nodding but doesn't. "Captain James Tiberius Kirk at your service."

The Scout Leader makes a humming noise and speaks to the little boys in a language Kirk doesn't find remotely familiar. Then he says, "Why have you come here?"

"Um," he tries to make it sound good, "we were asked to explore by the Federation. They informed us that the planet was unpopulated but had yet to be looked at for resources. Guess they were wrong about the unpopulated thing, huh?" For some reason, it sounds much stupider now that he's said it.

"Our people have lived here for thousands and thousands of years," Scout Leader tells him. Then, in a different tone, "I have sent for the Brainers. They will be here shortly to dispose of you."

"Dispose?" Kirk echoes. "I really don't think that's necessary." He gives Scout Leader his most charming smile, the one he uses against irate professors and beautiful women. "I'm sure we can figure out some sort of midpoint-- like you letting us go and our friends won't blow you up."

Scout Leader is not won over. The children behind him titter and giggle. "I'm afraid we cannot compromise on this. Our secrecy is to keep your Federation from coming here and enforcing its rules. We do not agree with it's tactics and politics and foolish wars. Those before you have been disposed of. It only makes sense that we dispose of you. There is no proof you are anymore trustworthy than those you represent and we have seen how they behave."

Kirk's mind is sluggish and misbehaving. He spouts out without thinking, "For being so against the Federation, you sure do speak Standard well."

Scout Leader smiles this time but it is not pleasant. His teeth are pointed and Kirk's somewhat disoriented brain is traipsing old zombie movies. A childish fear starts to eat at his stomach and he unconsciously flinches away from this nightmarish creature. In the softest voice he can manage, he whispers, "Spock, now would be a time for an escape plan."

"Know thy enemy," Scout Leader says. "And your friend, Mr. Spock, sleeps and will find it difficult to be awake for more than a few minutes at a time until the sedative has gone out of his system. This will not be for another few hours yet."

He cusses under his breath and struggles fruitlessly against the bonds holding him. There are footsteps in the distance, footsteps which warn of demise. But mere thirty seconds of struggle have him reeling and exhausted and he sees this is the end. This is the no win situation that the Kobayashi Maru supposedly prepared him for; death by Boy Scout Troop. It all seems a little too ridiculous to be true. Even so, this is the first time he's felt this helpless, this far lost despite his attempts. He can feel Spock shifting behind him, coming to just in time to see the end. His hands scrabble at the ground, clutching at dirt and rocks but finding nothing to help them.

He does not see the "Brainers" enter but soon is faced with one. This alien looks very similar to Scout Leader except his eyes are gentler and his skin paler. He looks at Kirk and smiles with his pointed teeth in what Kirk thinks is meant to be reassuring but falls short. His hand reaches out and Kirk dodges it best he can, tapping his head against Spock's. Then, he promptly falls into a pain induced stupor. Cold, sticky hands touch his face, his scalp and then settle on his temples. The pain recedes just a small bit enough to stop the keening wail coming from his lips.

"What are you doing to him?" Spock demands from a distance.

"Trying to ease his discomfort," informs a smooth, soft voice. "He resists though, I sense his fear."

"Sense his fear? How so?" Spock's tone has gone from threatening to intrigued.

"We do not mind meld, if that is what you think," says the Brainer. Kirk takes a moment to be sick and hopes he's hit the Brainer. At least he can go out with one last act of defiance. "It is something quite different. I am afraid I can tell you no more. It is against our laws to reveal our knowledge."

"I do not see the issue as we've been informed that your purpose here is to dispose of us," Spock replies.

"Initially, yes, we came to do so but we were not informed of your conditions nor your races. Individuals must be healthy in order for disposal to work correctly. Brain injuries prevent it and your Vulcan heritage appears to hinder the attempts of my friend. So, I'm afraid we'll have to kill you instead."

He's in too much pain to focus and too confused to be concerned. Drifting between wakefulness and unconsciousness, he doesn't really hear the debate between Spock and the Brainers. He knows it happens and is basically aware that it takes a while. However, what he understands as a while and how much time actually passes are two very different things. He becomes entranced with the pale blue skin and purple lips, wondering if his coloring creeps the boy scouts out the way their color bothers him.

"Wouldn't you agree, Captain?" Spock stresses agree in order to urge him to say 'yes.'

"Huh?"

"That we will not tell anyone of this interesting interaction," Spock leads. "That I was hit by a spine from a plant and you fell and hit your head. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Sure," he says, his head dropping back onto Spock's shoulder. "Sounds great." He can't remember what exactly they aren't talking about anyway.

The Brainer in front of him turns to Scout Leader. "I have no reason to doubt that either of them will keep their word. They are both men of honor."

"Honor varies by culture," the Scout Leader reminds him, stiffly. He's staring down his nose at the pair of them, examining them like they are animals.

"But their honor exudes similar quality to our own," the Brainer rebuts. "The final decision is yours but, I believe that we can trust them." He meets Kirk's unfocused gaze. "I would suggest a swift decision."

"Sides," Kirk tells him. "Can't tell. Never would live down getting… taken out by boy scouts…"

When Scotty and McCoy find them two hours later lying in an open field, the only thing they manage to get out of the semi-conscious Kirk and drugged Spock is, "Beware of the fauna" and "Fucking zombie boy scouts."

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**The End

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End file.
